Don't Count Your Eggs... EVER!

This Easter Weekend I did nothing but drink. That's how we celebrate it down South-- we start after the Good Friday service and don't stop until 12:01 AM on Awesome Monday. When I arrived back home from visiting a friend (a Georgian bootlegger) my mother looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "Oh, my pious, loving child." If I heard her wrong it is because I was truly smashed and I know she'll forgive me. I was laid to rest in my room upon my bed, wrapped in swaddling old comforters and the curtains were closed. I slept and vomited for quite awhile and, like our Lord, rose again on the third day. OK, actually I didn't wake up until Thursday morning so technically you could say I rose on the fourth day. But come on, I'm not a pro like the Big Jeez.

What awoke me from my recuperative state was something truly horrifying: The Telephone. I don't allow any phones upstairs where I live (I do have a cell phone but I only text message on it and play Snake), but sometimes when there is a moment of silence during my anime (which I keep on in the background 24/7/365) I can sometimes hear a ring from the downstairs phone and it terrifies me.

The reason is that when I was young I shared a room with my younger brother and like all little boys we'd stay up late and have pissing contests all night (of course we called them weeing contests). Aside from distance and accuracy we'd often times "Sword Fight" where we'd cross streams (LOL insert Ghostbustaz joke haha) and make a CLANG-ish sound effect. I guess our mother had had enough of our late night clang-abouts so one night she came in our room with this Playskool full service telephone from our mock Secretary's desk in the playroom. Over and over she screamed, "RING RING! RING RING! SLEEPY BOYS DON'T SAY A THING!" While chanting she'd whip us in the legs with the phone over and over leaving us in tears and our legs covered in welts. After a few nights of this the mere sight of the phone in our rooms would leave us shivering and cowering, unable to get out of bed or make a single sound effect (which tore us to pieces inside because we'd been on a Police Academy binge). Of course as we grew older and our leg skins grew tougher we, of course, grew bolder. However, our mother was too smart. Realizing that the plastic phone wasn't having much of an effect on us anymore she went out and bought a real phone with really hard parts. Our night time rebellion was quelled before it even had a chance to get off the ground and wee wee.

Good story, you might say, but what does this have to do with Easter? Well, do you remember how in my last post I likened hunting for eggs with hunting for Wii Remotes? If not just scroll down. If you are a first time reader then scroll even more down. If you don't have a scroll wheel then go buy a better mouse, dummy! Anyways, imagine (if you will) if out in your yard (where eggs are traditionally hidden) every single egg-sized patch of grass had a telephone (miniature, of course) next to it. And what if to find eggs you didn't go outside and look in every single patch of grass for them, but sat inside with a phone book and called each individual grass patch and asked them if they had any eggs inside of them. Hmm, seems more like work than a fun game, like Smear the Queer, so to speak. Now couple that with the fact that you are deathly afraid of using telephones because you were beaten with one as a child. There is no way in hell you are going to keep me inside on Easter and have me call around for eggs.

So it is with Wii Remotes. I bought myself a Nintendo Wii last December after waiting in line at Target for 3 hours in the cold. I felt like I had achieved something great, or at least bought something great. I found out that Target might have some Wiis (Easter) in their store through an Internet Rumor (Scripture) not some creepy ass phone call (Beelzubub). Getting a Wii by itself is like getting an Easter Basket, Wii Sports is like that fake grass stuff, and the Remote that comes with the system is like ONE LOUSY EGG. If you are the kid who's mom makes him wear those gay knee socks and suspenders, and you've shown up to the Egg hunt with bed-head and you've only found one egg... You are going to be next Queer to get Smeared.

So here I am with just one Remote and the ever present threat of getting smeared for it, what do I do? Every morning for the next month I go to every possible store that could sell Wii Remotes and I go inside and look for them. I don't call and I don't whine about it--I persevere. Nine times out of ten I'm going to leave the store empty handed, but after searching and searching, day after day, I finally walked into a Toys R Us that had just gotten in a shipment of Remotes. And, just like the Easter when I was seven, I paid the man $140 so that he could fill my basket with eggs and my heart with the Spirit of the Season. So next time you want to know if a store has a game or whatever in stock remember what Easter is all about. It's about getting out there and getting your hands dirty and it's about love.